Remembering How Kids Dressed In The 50's

Great column by a senior citizen who grew up in the 50's writing about how kids dressed at his high school in the 50's vs. today. Interesting to note that the most popular color for boys' Ivy League pants wasn't khaki, but black.

http://www.hngnews.com/deforest_tim...cle_f88cb703-8e7f-5df3-8571-289d6fc4b463.html

Sounds pretty much like the mix I've seen in the (better) fifties (and fifties-set) screen works... Be interesting to make such a comparison in the UK, given uniforms were the norm here, then and now. The comment on teachers rings true; the only male teachers I ever had who didn't wear at least a collared shirt and tie with trousers were games teachers, in their slobby tracksuits (which ,to be fair, were practical for what they did, but looked odd in the classroom for their few academic subjects (few UK games teachers complete an entire career in that role, most at some point end up teaching at least low-level academic subjects as they get older). I can only remember my male teachers wearing jeans on days that were on-uniform for us, or on school trips when we were out of uniform.

One point I questioned was the comment that the boys wore jeans to school. I went to high school in the 60's, but even then jeans were not permitted, nor was long hair during most of the decade. Also, during the late '50s, a great deal depended upon where you lived, as styles for boys were decided regionally. For instance, until the age of twelve I lived in Elizabeth, just across the harbor from Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Staten Island, and the look was overwhelmingly "greaser"; black pegged pants, black "featherweights" (lightweight black leather with Cuban heels and pointed toes, and dramatically colored socks and shirts, often two-toned with one color for the body of the shirt and another for the collar and darts for the pockets and inside pleats of the back (I sigh): One I remember was a navy blue main body with pink trimmings, and another was white with black. Leather was big as Schotts was right there in Elizabeth, and Newark was, I believe, the leather capitol of the U.S.
When we moved to northern Baltimore in the summer of 1963 I found myself a source of curiousity and derision, as it seemed the entire adolescent population were living under some kind of strict sumptuary laws dictating the wearing of the preppy look: only specific shades of burgundy, forest green, and navy were allowed for socks and the rings of your white t-shirts, only Jack Purcells could be worn for sneakers, and once a certain style article was established not only did you have to wear that exact style but from that maker. No exceptions. At one point a local company came out with a beautiful Harris Tweed reversible, shawl-collared coat, with one side rweed and the other khaki-canvas, but how much fun can it be if every one of your friends, as well as all the guys in your school all have the same coat? Was I ever glad to see the Beatles, and then, my God, the Stones! Bless you, Brian Jones .Many years later, the little woman and I went to see the film "Cry Baby" by John Waters. Waters and I went to the same boys' high school, and I laughed all the way through it, particularly appreciating the country guys. We also both got kicked out in our senior years: he for wearing a see-through, polka-dotted mini-skirt and me for refusing to cut my hair. That's when everything changed. I've always loved the old styles, particularly those of the late 1940's
but hated the idea of some person or group promoting some kind of pure snobbery. I also liked the idea that different areas have their own, unique styles. When I first went to England and Scotland in 1971, and then to several other countries over the next year and a half, I couldn't believe how different the styles, colors, and tailoring were in the different countries. At the time, Great Britain had a style as unique as anywhere, and I couldn't help thinking, whenever I've visited Europe over the following decades how standardized everything had become. Maybe it's just one of the pitfalls of globalization. Seems like a shame, though.